Welcome to our Robert Burns poems

Robert Bunrs Poems

Robert Burns poems are know the world over. As Scotland’s national bard his poetry and songs have been celebrated and argued about for over 200 years. He covered many subjects: love, politics, religion, nature and death amongst others. His gentle (and not so gentle) mocking ways took down pomposity and arrogance in extablished hierarchical institutions.

Initially feted by the Edinburgh literary elite his support for the principles of the French revolution saw him shunned and he returned to the west of Scotland where he died at a young age.

We hope you enjoy the Robert Burns poems here and delve into them from time to time. Human nature doesn’t change; the classics can still seem fresh to us today.

We encourage to explore these wonderful poems, particularly around his birthday on the 25th January but also all year round. Dinnae be a sleekit wee beastie wi’ his works……

Song Inscribed To Alexander Cunningham

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Now springhas clad the grove in green, And strew'd the leawi' flowers; The furrow'd, waving corn is seen Rejoice in fostering showers. While ilka thing in nature join Their sorrows to forego, O why thus all alone are mine The weary steps o' woe! The trout in yonder wimpling burn That glides, a silver dart,

The Braw Wooer

ed mccabe2018-11-12T18:28:51+00:001795, Robert Burns Poems, Song, Type, Year|

Last May, a brawwooer camdoun the langglen, And sairwi' his love he did deaveme; I said, there was naethingI hated like men- The deuce gae wi'm, to believe me, believe me; The deuce gae wi'm to believe me. He spako' the darts in my bonieblack e'en, And vow'd for my love he was diein, I

The Cardin O’t, The Spinnin O’t

ed mccabe2018-11-12T18:28:49+00:001795, Poem, Robert Burns Poems, Type, Year|

I cofta staneo'haslock woo', To maka wabto Johnie o't; For Johnie is my only jo, I loe him best of onieyet. Chorus-The cardin' o't, the spinnin' o't, The warpin' o't, the winnin' o't; When ilka ell cost me a groat, The tailor stawthe lynin' o't. For tho' his locks be lyartgrey, And tho' his brow

The Cooper O’ Cuddy

ed mccabe2018-11-12T18:28:51+00:001795, Robert Burns Poems, Song, Type, Year|

Chorus-We'll hide the Cooper behint the door, Behint the door, behint the door, We'll hide the Cooper behint the door, And cover him under a mawn, O. The Cooper o'Cuddy came here awa, He ca'd the girrs out o'er us a'; An'our gudewife has gotten a ca', That's anger'd the silly gudeman O. We'll hide

The Lass O’ Ecclefechan

ed mccabe2018-11-12T18:28:54+00:001795, Robert Burns Poems, Song, Type, Year|

Gat ye me, O gat ye me, O gatye me wi'naething? Rockanreel, and spinning wheel, A micklequarter basin: Bye attour my Gutcherhas A heichhouse and a laich ane, A'forbye my boniesel, The tosso'Ecclefechan. O haud your tongue now, Lucky Lang, O haudyour tongue and jauner I held the gatetillyou I met, SyneI began to wander:

The Lass That Made The Bed To Me

ed mccabe2018-11-12T18:28:49+00:001795, Poem, Robert Burns Poems, Type, Year|

When Januar' wind was blawingcauld, As to the north I took my way, The mirksome night did me enfauld, I knew na where to lodge till day: Bymy gudeluck a maid I met, Just in the middle o' my care, And kindly she did me invite To walk into a chamber fair. I bow'd fu'

The Solemn League And Covenant

ed mccabe2018-11-12T18:28:49+00:001795, Poem, Robert Burns Poems, Type, Year|

The Solemn League and Covenant Now brings a smile, now brings a tear; Butsacred Freedom, too, was theirs: If thou'rt a slave, indulge thy sneer.

The Wren’s Nest

ed mccabe2018-11-12T18:28:49+00:001795, Poem, Robert Burns Poems, Type, Year|

The Robin to the Wren's nest Cam keekin' in, camkeekin' in; O weel's me on your auld pow, Wad ye be in, wadye be in? Thou's ne'er getleave to lie without, And I within, and I within, Saelang's I haeanauldclout To rowe ye in, to rowe ye in.

Their Groves O’Sweet Myrtle

ed mccabe2018-11-12T18:28:54+00:001795, Robert Burns Poems, Song, Type, Year|

Their groves o' sweet myrtle let Foreign Lands reckon, Where bright-beaming summers exalt the perfume; Far dearer to me yon lone glen o'green breckan, Wi' the burnstealing under the lang, yellow broom. Far dearer to me are yonhumble broom bowers Where the blue-bell and gowanlurk, lowly, unseen; For there, lightlytripping, among the wild flowers, A-list'ning

There Was A Bonie Lass

ed mccabe2018-11-12T18:28:49+00:001795, Poem, Robert Burns Poems, Type, Year|

There was a bonie lass, and a bonie, bonie lass, And she lo'ed her bonie laddie dear; TillWar's loud alarms tore her laddiefraeher arms, Wi'mony a sigh and tear. Over sea, over shore, where the cannons loudly roar, He still was a stranger to fear; And nochtcould him quail, orhis bosom assail, Butthe bonielass he

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